THE CALL

Today, August 5th. I cannot understand why my feelings are so diluted. I can remember a tear forming in my eyes. I could feel the frustrations of my isolation from my family; so far away but so near. There I was, just off from work and on my way home. My phone rang very soon after turning it back on; I answered.

My sister, which whom I haven't spoken with in nearly a year contacted me. You see this was an odd day. I worked that morning and the work day came and left as if not much effort was put into it. This day, as like a few days before, I turned off my mobile phone; not so much that I did not want to be reached, but more because it was nice to be unattached to the digital world.

My sister’s voice came across the phone, it was unfamiliar to me. I questioned the authenticity of her voice. "Who is this," I asked, in a firm yet uncompromising manner. "It is me, Bunny, your sister!" My sister... I thought. In a flash, I questioned why she would be calling me from the depths of the blue unknown. Blink! I was back to reality; "What can I do for you!" I uttered.

She did not take much time to responded, yet I could detect a moment of hesitation. It was if time had stopped and the moments that seconds had claimed to be their own were a lie… I know… I had just stolen one of those so very precious moments. I could hear her voice; her lips fixed themselves into the proper position to say... “Daddy is dead!”

After the first syllable fall from her lips, she let loose the words that our beloved father had died. I was jealous and angry that I could not go back in time and stop her from uttering those very painful, disturbing words. That sentence, the phrase that surely would kill me from the inside out and beyond, destroying the psyche of this fragile man.

My mouth laid open, my eyes red, my heart stopped, the sound of traffic became muffled then mute. My lips did not move, but some how words leaped from my tongue and spoke without asking. "What did you say," I asked! "I just wanted to tell you," my sister replied. "Would you like to speak to your cousin Shonda," she asked? Like that of lighting honed in on a target, I replied, "NO!"

IN MEMORY OF MY DAD - SAMUEL JOHNSON
1926 - 2008